Read Online A Place Called Bliss by Ruth Glover - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruth Glover
Tags: Historical fiction, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Politics & Social Sciences, Genre Fiction, Spirituality, Religion & Spirituality, Philosophy, Religious, Christianity, Atheism, FIC014000, Theology, Religious Studies
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do, we’ll hope the railroad has come up this way. When it does, land will go much faster and soon all this wonderful farming country will be swelling with people.
Today we have camped at St. Laurent Mission, and that’s how come I know the date; though this isn’t civilization by any means, they at least know what time of the year it is. They have a garden here, and we were able to buy potatoes. Ummm, good.
It’s just a few days now until we reach Prince Albert. From there we’ll make our way to this Bliss place, if Angus has his way. But time is growing short for talking to Rev. Voss if I am going to do so. I keep wondering if he’ll turn off at some of the spots where others turn aside; two families, for instance, turned off for Nipawin, and another family turned back, even though we are so close to our destination. Rev. Voss is comingby our tent tonight, and oh, Mam, perhaps I’ll find some answers to this cry in my heart.
Sept. 1—It’s so simple, Mam. So simple and yet so profound. I’m a changed person. It’s hard to understand that people looking at me probably can’t see any difference. But inside, where the hunger was and the longing, it’s like a candle is burning, and it’s bright and light and full of joy. I want to tell everyone about it! Rev. Voss says the way to tell it is to live it (and that may be much harder). But I’ve begun, Mam, I’ve begun.
He explained, so simply, all about Jesus coming to earth to save sinners and that though He went back to heaven, His Spirit, whom He called a Comforter (and He surely is that) is with us, and He has been drawing my hungry heart to God. That’s when the candle was lit, Mam, and I understood. Then it was so easy to pray, to say all those things that made the past forgiven, and I gave the future into His hands.
Oh, Mam, the peace! And the healing—it has finally begun. About my wee Angel, I mean, and (never mentioned before but hidden in my heart) a certain bitterness toward Angus for bringing me to this new life and that terrible voyage. Last night, late, I confessed this to Angus and we had a very tender hour together, praying, loving, planning. I think we were a happier bride and groom than Mr. Swart and Rose, God bless ’em!
I tell you, Mam, this buggy ride is taking me to Bliss in more ways than one!
B reakfast was over, Hugh was enjoying a final cup of coffee, and Sophia, dawdling over her tea, stifled a yawn by smothering it delicately with her lace-edged handkerchief.
Even so, Hugh noticed. “Tired, my dear?” he asked, with a smile. Their previous day had been a long one; the lacrosse game had been just the beginning.
Not ordinarily given to the festivities that marked an age when the rich grew richer while the poor became poorer, but having committed himself to the game, Hugh had good-naturedly devoted the remainder of the day to his wife.
They had joined the rest of the “posh” crowd—a new word coined to fit the times—in the mindless sort of thing they did every afternoon between 3:00 and 6:00: parading up and down King Street with no other intention than to gossip and strut the latest fashions. Hugh despised it, and even Sophia admitted that, once indulged in and experienced, she could see no practical reason to continue.
Then there had been the dash for home and the changing of clothes for dinner at the Miltons’ large and garish mansion.But it boasted the new tin bathtub and the hot water that was just now making its appearance in a few homes. Heatherstone, of course, had both, but neither its master or mistress was crass enough to make mention of it.
And what a dinner it had been, keeping them seated for three hours followed by coffee and a boring piano recital by one of the Milton daughters. Ten courses the Milton servants had served, if Hugh’s memory served him correctly, peaking with a huge stuffed boar’s head and concluding with rare and exotic fruit, imported cheese, and fancy glacés. Hugh’s
Today we have camped at St. Laurent Mission, and that’s how come I know the date; though this isn’t civilization by any means, they at least know what time of the year it is. They have a garden here, and we were able to buy potatoes. Ummm, good.
It’s just a few days now until we reach Prince Albert. From there we’ll make our way to this Bliss place, if Angus has his way. But time is growing short for talking to Rev. Voss if I am going to do so. I keep wondering if he’ll turn off at some of the spots where others turn aside; two families, for instance, turned off for Nipawin, and another family turned back, even though we are so close to our destination. Rev. Voss is comingby our tent tonight, and oh, Mam, perhaps I’ll find some answers to this cry in my heart.
Sept. 1—It’s so simple, Mam. So simple and yet so profound. I’m a changed person. It’s hard to understand that people looking at me probably can’t see any difference. But inside, where the hunger was and the longing, it’s like a candle is burning, and it’s bright and light and full of joy. I want to tell everyone about it! Rev. Voss says the way to tell it is to live it (and that may be much harder). But I’ve begun, Mam, I’ve begun.
He explained, so simply, all about Jesus coming to earth to save sinners and that though He went back to heaven, His Spirit, whom He called a Comforter (and He surely is that) is with us, and He has been drawing my hungry heart to God. That’s when the candle was lit, Mam, and I understood. Then it was so easy to pray, to say all those things that made the past forgiven, and I gave the future into His hands.
Oh, Mam, the peace! And the healing—it has finally begun. About my wee Angel, I mean, and (never mentioned before but hidden in my heart) a certain bitterness toward Angus for bringing me to this new life and that terrible voyage. Last night, late, I confessed this to Angus and we had a very tender hour together, praying, loving, planning. I think we were a happier bride and groom than Mr. Swart and Rose, God bless ’em!
I tell you, Mam, this buggy ride is taking me to Bliss in more ways than one!
B reakfast was over, Hugh was enjoying a final cup of coffee, and Sophia, dawdling over her tea, stifled a yawn by smothering it delicately with her lace-edged handkerchief.
Even so, Hugh noticed. “Tired, my dear?” he asked, with a smile. Their previous day had been a long one; the lacrosse game had been just the beginning.
Not ordinarily given to the festivities that marked an age when the rich grew richer while the poor became poorer, but having committed himself to the game, Hugh had good-naturedly devoted the remainder of the day to his wife.
They had joined the rest of the “posh” crowd—a new word coined to fit the times—in the mindless sort of thing they did every afternoon between 3:00 and 6:00: parading up and down King Street with no other intention than to gossip and strut the latest fashions. Hugh despised it, and even Sophia admitted that, once indulged in and experienced, she could see no practical reason to continue.
Then there had been the dash for home and the changing of clothes for dinner at the Miltons’ large and garish mansion.But it boasted the new tin bathtub and the hot water that was just now making its appearance in a few homes. Heatherstone, of course, had both, but neither its master or mistress was crass enough to make mention of it.
And what a dinner it had been, keeping them seated for three hours followed by coffee and a boring piano recital by one of the Milton daughters. Ten courses the Milton servants had served, if Hugh’s memory served him correctly, peaking with a huge stuffed boar’s head and concluding with rare and exotic fruit, imported cheese, and fancy glacés. Hugh’s
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